


Daemon AUs

by Wickedrider98



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst, Canon-Typical Jon Getting Kidnapped, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Daemon Touching, Daemon Separation (mentioned), Daemon Touching, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Multi, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Non-sexual daemon touching, One Shot Collection, canon-typical weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedrider98/pseuds/Wickedrider98
Summary: A series of Daemon AU One Shots





	1. Martin and Ulysses- Woven

There was a theory out there, in a similar vein to horoscopes. It was said that when a daemon was named somewhere out there was a daemon named for the opposite, a Hades to a Persephone, a Romeo to a Juliet. It was said the person with this daemon was your soulmate. Martin had always wanted to believe it, that somewhere out there was a man with a daemon named for the Greek Hero's wife who would love him for the rest of their lives. But working where he did, Martin knew there were far more sinister powers at work. Though he was a hopeless romantic, it was hard to believe that there was truly someone out there named for his other half in mythology.  
And then he met Jon.  
And Ulysses met Penelope.  
Martin tried to think about it logically. It was just coincidence. Jon and his family weren't influenced by any Other-worldly powers to name the burrowing owl Penelope any more than Martin's was to name the peacock jumping spider Ulysses. But all it had done was fuel his pining. Even now as he sat at his desk attempting to do research on Rosa Meyer, he had trouble focusing until Uly tapped one of his feet on Martin's hand.  
“I know you're busy pining, but we still have a job to do,” the colorful spider said as he crawled onto his human’s arm, “and you know how he gets when you get distracted.”  
“I know, I just…” Martin shook his head, “you’re right. No sense in it I guess.”  
“You’re not the only one who thinks about them you know,” Uly persisted, “at least he didn’t recoil in horror when he saw you.”  
Martin nodded. Were it not for his vibrant blue and orange coloring Uly would be nearly invisible to the naked eye, but that hadn’t stopped the look of pure, undisguised fear that flashed across Penelope and Jon’s faces when they saw the spider perched on his shoulder. Uly was used to people looking on him with disgust and fear, as most insect and arachnid daemons were. They had always been treated as second class compared to those with “real” daemons. Hell, even his own mother and Agamemnon had found it even more impossible to look at him after Uly settled, the vulture often flashing his battered beak at the small spider threateningly when they would try to take care of them. But there was something about watching Jon’s burrowing owl interact so casually with Hestia and Castor that tore a hole in Uly’s heart. Martin could feel Uly longing for Penelope just as much as he did for Jon, but he was just worse at ignoring it. Uly tapped on his hand again.  
“Marto?” He asked, “No time for feelings, we have work to do, and we still have to convince them that you have a degree in Parapsychology.”  
“We’ve been keeping this facade up for a decade, it’ll be fine.”  
Uly blinked his first set of eyes.  
“No need to test them.” He replied. Martin nodded and returned to his work while Uly scampered up the corner of his cubicle to watch over him. Martin sighed. Uly wasn’t the kind of spider who weaves webs, but a part of him still held onto the hope that Jon and his fates would still be woven.


	2. Jon and Penelope- Ponderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Penelope try to grasp what's happened.

Penelope was still shaking in Jon’s arms as they sat on Georgie’s couch. Jon didn’t attempt to speak, just clung to his daemon, staring emotionless at the turned off television. One moment he’d been speaking with Jurgen Leitner, Skadi standing by his side. They had only gone outside for a second, long enough to smoke a cigarette and press its remnants into an ashtray. But when they returned they found a scene straight out of a horror movie. Leitner lay dead with his head caved in, blood pooling on the oak table. His moose daemon was nowhere to be seen, dissolved into the air like she had never been there to start with. Jon stood dumbfounded.  
“J-Jon?” Penelope stammered, “What happened? What do we…?”  
“I-I need to… I need to, uh…”  
The Archivist staggered backward before turning and breaking into a run, Penelope flapping desperately behind him. He felt their bond straining as he bolted through the London streets, ignoring the screeching pain in his chest.  
“Jon!” he heard Penelope’s strangled cry, “where are we going!? Jon!? Slow down! Please!”  
Jon hadn’t stopped until they’d reached Georgie’s door. It had been years since they’d spoken, so he couldn’t blame her for looking surprised when she opened the door to her ex-boyfriend and his daemon, breathless and disheveled. But she and The Admiral had taken them in no questions asked. And now the two sat in the living room in tense silence. It was Penelope who spoke first.  
“They’re going to think we did it.” She began to shake harder, “we were the last ones to see them alive, we were the only ones in the Archives. Everyone’s going to think we did it.”  
“I know,” Jon croaked.  
“What are we going to do?”  
“I… I don’t know, I have no idea.”  
Penelope snuggled closer to Jon’s chest while he numbly stroked her downy spotted feathers.  
“We should tell Georgie,” she murmured, “she’ll know what to do.”  
“We can’t.” Jon’s reply was automatic, “we can’t put them in danger like that.”  
The owl didn’t respond, just shivered and cuddled closer. Jon felt a hand gently touch his shoulder, and snapped back to reality to see Georgie.  
“You look like you needed this.” She offered him a cup of tea, which he took graciously.  
“Thank you.” He murmured in between sips. Despite sprinting across London, Jon had only realized then how thirsty he was. Georgie nodded and sat in the chair next to him. Penelope hopped out of Jon’s lap to take a spot next to The Admiral. The ginger Maine Coon daemon had curled protectively around the owl in the same way he had when Jon and Georgie were dating.  
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” he murmured to her. Penelope shuddered at the word.  
“Do you want to explain to me why you showed up on my doorstep with only Penny and the clothes of your back?” Georgie asked.  
“I… I had a falling out,” Jon thought of an excuse as he spoke, “with my employer. To make a long story short Penny and I need a place to stay. Lay low for a bit.”  
The look on Georgie’s face suggested she didn’t buy it for a second.  
“Well… you’re welcome to stay here.” She watched The Admiral and Penelope, “as long as you need. I can, I’ll get the guest room ready.”  
Jon nodded.  
“Thank you.”  
Georgie didn’t reply, but got up and started down the hallway. The Admiral waited until she was what would be a considerable distance between a person and her daemon before unwrapping himself from Penelope and following behind.  
“Do you know what this has made me think of?” Jon asked, giving a rueful snort.  
“I know exactly.” The owl murmured, “it’s been on my mind as well.”  
“Maybe we should…”  
“Not right now.” Penelope shook her head, “I don’t want to relive that, and I know you don’t either.”  
Jon shrugged, the words he had branded in his mind swirling around like a whirlpool.  
_Mister Spider wants another guest for dinner, it is always polite to knock._  
Jon felt a chill run down his spine. His daemon was right. He didn’t want to relive it. He lowered himself down on the couch, Penelope at his side. He held her tightly to him as he started to drift off.  
“We’re in trouble Jon.” She whimpered.  
“I know.” Sleep clouded Jon’s voice, “we’ll…we’ll figure it out another day.”  
Penelope slowly settled next to him, and the two drifted off. They knew that they couldn’t outrun their troubles forever, but for now they could sleep them away for a bit.


	3. Elias and Hera- The Watcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias Bouchard is a bastard man

“How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine?” Elias asked, “Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, especially when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. He just tore her heart out and took it with him. The thing is though, Martin, if you do want to know exactly what your father looked like, all you have to do is look in a mirror.”  
Martin’s eyes widened, his hand migrating up to his face. Uly put a hand a leg on his human’s finger, trying to offer some comfort.  
“The resemblance is quite uncanny,” Elias continued simply.  
“Right down to the daemon.” Hera’s eyes locked on Uly, whose eyes were also now wide with pain and surprise, “you didn’t really think the only reason Agamemnon couldn’t bring himself to look at you was that you were an arachnid, did you Ulysses?”  
The spider hugged his front legs around Martin’s finger.  
“I’m sorry Martin, I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over.  
“Don’t feel bad Ulysses,” the peacock taunted, “settling on the same type of animal as Clytemnestra wasn’t your choice. We know who chose your form, even if it wasn’t a conscious decision.”  
From the look on Martin’s face Elias could tell this was the first time he had heard the name of his father’s daemon.  
“The face of the man who destroyed her life,” he continued, “watching over her. Feeding her. Cleaning her. Looking down on her with such pity. And doing it all with a spider on his shoulder.”  
“Shut. Up.” Martin’s voice cracked, trying to hold himself together. Uly had crawled up his human’s shoulder and settling on his face, using one of his furry legs to try and bat the tears out of Martin’s eyes.  
“You want to know what she sees when she looks at the two of you?”  
Martin’s convulsing sobs grew closer together, leaving Uly to attempt to scramble out of the way of falling tears, finding a spot on his forehead and gently petting his hair. Hera placed Agamemnon’s thoughts on the tiny spider in the daemon’s mind, and soon he joined Martin in his sobs.  
“I’m so sorry Martin, I’m sorry,” he said over and over.  
“Oh God…” Martin cried, now shaking and hyperventilating. Elias watched, unfeeling.  
_Wrap it up_ , Hera’s voice ordered in his head, _she’s coming._  
“Don’t burn any more statements.” Elias hissed over the man’s sobs, and he and Hera left the two blubbering messes alone.  
“I’d say that went well.” Hera watched as Elias gathered himself, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us again.”  
“Oh he’ll bother us again,” Elias replied, “but at the very least we won’t have any more statements reduced to ash.”  
The peacock hummed as the two started back towards Elias’s office.  
“Where is Melanie now?” He asked.  
“She and Achilles are heading this way.”  
“And they have the tapes?”  
“Yes.”  
“Excellent. Then everything is going according to plan.”  
Hera gave a short huff.  
“I still don’t understand why you’re actively choosing to be arrested,” she muttered, “there are easier ways to give Peter the Institute you know. And something tells me peacock daemons don’t fare well in prison.”  
“You don’t have to come with.”  
Hera rolled her eyes.  
“As if they’d let the daemon of a convicted murderer run free. And besides, if The Archivist survives this you said it’s best if neither of us are anywhere near him.”  
“And?”  
The peacock groaned.  
“And I’d rather not be here the first time Circe turns up,” she spat out the albatross daemon’s name, “I want nothing to do with her. Or Peter for that matter.”  
Elias shrugged as they rounded the corner towards his office.  
“You could always go back to the flat,” he countered as he took a seat as his mahogany desk. Hera settled into his lap, shaking her head.  
“No,” Elias caught sight of the look of resolve in her brown eyes, “I chose this every bit as much as you did, and I intend to see it through no matter what, Jonah.”  
Elias smiled at being called by his true name, placing a hand on the bird’s head.  
“You’re quite loyal Madea,” he chuckled, “and I’ll never understand how you can pick the perfect form without raising suspicion.”  
Hera preened, obviously proud of her talents.  
“Call it a gift,” she was very matter-of-fact, “and of course our God has its say.”  
“Do you ever miss you original form?”  
“Do you ever miss your original body?” Hera searched his face for a response before sighing, “I suppose I do, yes. I miss flying, sure, but this form isn’t awful. And anything’s better than trying to fit into the squirrel the pothead had before we took over. A snowy owl to a rodent, talk about a downgrade.”  
“Yes, well-” Elias was cut off by the sight of the Archivist and his crew entering the House of Wax, “it’s starting.”  
Hera nodded, he knew she could see it to. The two made themselves comfortable. It was time to see how their Archivist and his little owl would fare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stand wholeheartedly by the theory that Elias is Jonah, just a bodyhopper.


	4. Georgie and The Admiral- Distance

Georgie felt numb. She didn’t know how else to explain it. Alex and Diomedes were gone. Her best friend and her leopard daemon vanished, forgotten by the world. She’s tried to forget along with it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t forget. Even if she somehow could somehow, each time Georgie was put in a situation where she knew she supposed to feel fear was a brutal reminder of the corpse in the medical building. And her ability to be farther from her daemon than the average person should be able to was something that wasn’t ignored. In the months that followed her run-in with the corpse her connection to the Maine Coon had felt nonexistent. Georgie had remembered learning about Intercision in some Scientific Ethics class she had taken forever ago, and remembered all too clearly the black and white images of children and adults without daemons. The lost, emotionless faces of the victims were etched into her mind. She imagined that was how she looked in the weeks following the night in The Medical Building. For awhile she had felt no connection between her and The Admiral. The cat hadn’t moved in that time either, curled at the foot of her bed even when she left to shower or eat. When she had tried to pet him he’d just stared at her with eyes that didn’t recognize her. Eyes that accused her of committing the ultimate taboo and touching a daemon that wasn’t hers. It had been close to a month before he’d allowed Georgie to touch him, and longer after that until he spoke to her. They had rekindled their bond over time, but both of them knew they would never have the connection they used to. They were stuck in this eternal state half-severance, somewhere between Intercision and normalcy. This became apparent as the two skirted their way around the crowds of students and daemons surrounding the English building. The Admiral strode forward, not confident but holding up the facade well enough. Georgie hung back, much farther back than a human should be able to. Slowly the other students began to take notice, turning to see a daemon without his human. They looked from The Admiral to Georgie, whispering words of confusion and gossip. Georgie tried to ignore their stares as she caught up to him, pushing past a boy with a snake daemon hanging his neck, her eyes watching the cat and his human with interest. Georgie and The Admiral scrambled down the hallway, trying desperately to find the classroom she needed for her Rhetoric of Dystopias class.  
“A124,” The Admiral announced as he skittered to a stop in front of a door, “here we are.”  
Georgie nodded and entered the classroom to find it mostly empty. She glanced down at her watch. Class was supposed to start at 9am, and it was currently 8:30.  
“We’re early,” she said, “guess that means we get first pick of desks.”  
The two were so deeply enraptured in trying to not seem nervous that they almost didn’t notice the boy hunched over a book with his owl daemon perched on his shoulder, head tilting from side to side with interest. Georgie and The Admiral glanced at each other, nodded, and walked over to where he sat.  
“Hello!” She chirped. The boy jumped, causing the owl’s feathers to ruffle. He gathered himself and readjusted his glasses.  
“What do you want?” He huffed, clearly mad to have been drawn away from his book. Georgie tried to appear unruffled.  
“I just wanted to introduce myself, since we’re the first people here. My name’s Georgie Barker, and this is The Admiral.”  
“Jonathan Sims, most people call me Jon,” he motioned to the owl, “and this is Penelope.”  
“Pleased to meet you, Jon.” She stretched out a hand for him to shake, while Penelope flew from her perch and landed on the ground to properly greet The Admiral.  
“There’s a free desk over here, if you'd like.” Jon motioned to the empty chair next to him.  
“There's a free desk everywhere.” Georgie countered.  
“He's asking you to sit next to us.” Penelope retook her spot on Jon's shoulder, “he's never been overly articulate.”  
“Oh! Well in that case,” Georgie place her things on the empty desk and sat down, “and maybe, Jon, if you don't have anywhere to be after this we could grab a coffee and get to know each other?”  
“I have a two hour break after this class.” Jon replied. Georgie tried to pretend she didn't see Penelope cover her face with her wing and quietly mutter “oh dear God.”  
“So… is that a yes then?”  
“Yes.”  
Georgie smiled. She couldn't and didn't want to replace Alex, but maybe Jon would be a welcomed distraction.  
***  
Georgie knew she couldn't feel fear, but she didn't know what else to call the emotion that passed between her and The Admiral when they saw Jon and Penelope laying in that hospital bed. The way her blood had turned to ice and her heart hammered against her chest at the sight of the unconscious man who had been sitting on her couch drinking tea only a few weeks before, she couldn't think of another word.  
“Do you think they’ll wake up? Do you,” The Admiral’s voice cracked, “do you even… want… them to?”  
Georgie shook her head.  
“I don’t know,” she murmured, “I know that if he does, that won’t be the Jon and Penny we met at Uni.”  
_But at the same time…_ she thought.  
“I don’t think they’ve been the Jon and Penny we met at Uni,” The Admiral echoed her thoughts, “not for a long time.”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. But even still.”  
She placed The Admiral on the bed next to Penelope and the ginger cat immediately curled around the burrowing owl, trying to ignore the amount of Dust that was cascading off her small body. The Admiral buried his face in her spotted feathers.  
“It’s like she’s dying Georgie,” he whimpered, “I… I think we might be losing them.”  
Georgie swallowed the lump in her throat and sat down in the chair next to Jon’s bed, allowing her fingers to slowly entwine with Jon’s as she watched him. He looked awful, so thin and small laying in front of her. Only then did she take notice of Penelope’s ruffled feathers, sticking out in all directions. Her free hand found its way to Jon’s head, gently stroking his graying hair.  
“They really need to take better care of themselves,” The Admiral whispered as he tried to groom Penelope, “they’re both wasting away…”  
Georgie nodded. They’d loved these two once, and on some level they probably still did. Though not in the way they’d thought they did at one time. But whatever capacity it was, it was enough for the tears to fall freely from Georgie’s eyes as she grappled with the fact that her best friend may not be waking up from this. The Admiral uncurled himself from Penelope’s side to press his face into his human’s.  
“It’ll be okay Georgie,” He whispered, though his tone didn’t suggest he believed what he was saying.  
She didn’t reply, but hugged her daemon tightly to her, as if if she let go he may fade from her life too.  
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” The cat said, pressing against her, “no matter what happens, we still have each other. And that’s a lot, given what we’ve been through.”  
She nodded.  
“Yeah, it is.” She wiped the liquid from the corners of her eyes and took in a deep breath, “I’m going to get some water. Are you going to stay here?”  
“I think so.”  
Georgie nodded.  
“I’ll be back.”  
The Admiral hopped off her lap and resumed his spot by Penelope’s side as Georgie stood and left the room, feeling no immediate tug to return to her daemon. Something she was still not entirely used to, even after all these years, but in this moment she was almost grateful. Georgie could leave knowing that Jon would be watched over while she grabbed a quick drink, protected by his loyal friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda hate the ending sentence of this one, but that aside this is one of my favorite Daemon AUs I've done!


	5. Nikola and Melpomene/Breekon and Hope and Romulus and Remus- Kidnapped

“Well Archivist,” Nikola’s voice was singsong, “how are you feeling?”  
Jon strained in his ropes, attempting to shout around his gag.  
“Good!” The mannequin exclaimed, “don’t bother trying to escape Archivist, you won’t be able to make it out of here alive!”  
Jon gave a muffled scream.  
“And what a cute little daemon!” Melpomene’s animatronic wing patted Penelope on the head. The owl let out an angry hoot, attempting to dive at her but straining against the strong chain around her ankle, “and what a feisty one!”  
“Let him go!” Penelope screeched, “God dammit, let us go!”  
The robotic mockingbird daemon made a voice that could possibly be perceived as a laugh.  
“My, my Nikola,” she landed on the mannequin’s shoulder, “it appears they both need to be taught a lesson.”  
“What d’ya plan on doin’ to ‘em Nikola?” Breekon asked, Romulus perched on his shoulder. Or was it Remus?  
“Yeah, should we start takin’ his skin?” Hope offered. Remus (or maybe Romulus?) let out a squawk of approval.  
“No, no!” Nikola was walking towards where Penelope was chained, “his skin is much too rough for that yet! I have a better idea.”  
“W-what are you doing!?” Penelope started to pull on her chain as Nikola grabbed her in her plastic arm. Jon let out a muffled scream of pain as she started to pet her white speckled feathers. Penelope wriggled in her arms, trying to break free.  
“LET ME GO!” She screamed, “STOP!”  
Jon could hear Breekon and Hope’s laughter over his daemon’s screeches, Romulus and Remus joining in with loud squawks. Pain ebbed in his chest, and Jon felt as though his own heart was being ripped slowly out of his chest.  
“Are you going to stop being rude, little daemon?” Nikola asked, still holding onto a screaming, wriggling Penelope, “what about you Archivist?”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the burrowing owl shouted, “now please, LET ME GO!”  
“Archivist?”  
She took Jon’s muffled screams of pain as an apology, and released Penelope. She flew backwards, shivering and cowering in the corner. Melpomene flew from her perch on Nikola’s shoulder, landing inches away from Penelope.  
“Don’t worry little daemon!” She chirped, “after we finish with The Archivist’s skin, you’ll be nothing but Dust and won’t even remember this!”  
Jon felt his blood run cold. Nikola turned to Breekon and Hope.  
“Well,” she exclaimed, “we best go get the lotion! From the looks of his skin right now he’s going to need it!”  
The two delivery men nodded.  
“Be right back,” they said, following the mannequin as she left, their two parrot daemons flapping after Melpomene. Penelope took a few tentative steps forward.  
“I’m so sorry Jon,” she whimpered, “I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”  
Jon wished he could reach out and touch his daemon, to tell her it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault. But instead his eyes met hers, soft and forgiving.  
_It’s alright_ , he thought, _you’re alright. It isn’t your fault. It’s okay Penny_.  
The owl’s eyes went wide with fear.  
“Jon,” her wings flapped nervously, “I heard you! In my head… that’s not, it’s not normal.”  
_No_ , Jon said, _it isn’t. But it helps for this situation_.  
The bird nodded.  
_What are we gonna do Jon?_ The owl’s voice rang in his mind.  
_I don’t know. But I won’t let them hurt you._  
_And I won’t let them skin you._  
_We’ll find a way out of here. I promise._


	6. Martin and Ulysses/Jon and Penelope- Reunion

Penelope almost didn’t believe it when she saw Martin heading towards The Archivist’s office. She nudged a too sleep-deprived to notice Jon, who’s hazy grey eyes blinked slowly as he tried to focus on her.  
“Penny? What’s…?” Jon’s voice was thick with exhaust.  
“Look!”   
As if on cue Martin burst through the door, breathless but visibly excited.   
“Jon!” He panted, rushing to his boss. Jon stood and closed the gap, Penelope flapping frantically next to him.  
“Ulysses!?” She swirled around the hugging men, “Uly!? Where are you?”  
The spider quickly crawled down Martin’s arm and landed on the desk. Penelope landed next to him and he crawled up to her beak.  
“I thought we lost you!” She whispered, “I was so worried!”  
Uly pressed his head against the owl’s.  
“We were beginning to think the same.”   
“And you’re not…? I mean, Jon and I have read Lonely statements, we know what happens to their Avatar’s daemons…”  
“No, we aren’t like Circe and Peter,” Uly couldn’t hide his happiness, “we’re still us. At least, we’re still bonded anyway.”  
“I’m so glad, I missed you so much.”  
Martin and Jon, now seperated, collected their daemons off the desk.  
“How did you escape?” The Archivist questioned without realizing what he’d done. He clapped a hand over his mouth, “ah. Sorry.”  
Penelope held in an exasperated sigh.  
“Martin won’t care,” he said, “he… we knew it would happen when we came back.”  
“We made a choice,” Martin shuddered, “Peter wasn’t happy, and I’m sure he’s going to take it out on The Archives…”  
“Let him.” Jon was determined, “you’re back. And we’re going to keep you whether he likes it or not.”  
“Oh for crying out loud Jon, he’s an Archival Assistant not a dog,” Penelope muttered. Uly patted her beak. The little spider could barely contain himself. It had been so long since he’d seen another daemon, let alone Penelope. And from the look of euphoria on her face he guessed this was the first time she’d been properly greeted by another daemon. He couldn’t imagine that Atlas or Achilles were particularly welcoming to her anymore, and Atalanta had never been overly affectionate with anyone. It broke his heart to think of Penelope’s loneliness. Martin put a hand out for Uly to crawl onto, resulting in Penelope pulling away as his fingertip almost brushed her beak.  
“Oh my! Sorry Penelope!”  
Jon gave a warm smile.  
“No,” he murmured, “it’s okay. I think.”  
“But… touching daemons is forbidden! It’s a taboo!”   
“He gave you his consent,” Penelope offered, “just… don’t make a habit of it.”  
“You mean…?” Martin’s tone was hesitant, “you want to… touch… each other’s daemons?”  
“I...I think so. If you want to.”  
Penelope shuddered. There’d only ever been a couple people who had ever touched her, and the most recent one…   
She took a deep breath. No, Martin wasn’t Nikola. She knew him, Jon was close to him and she was to Uly. Jon had consented to this, it was alright.  
“Penelope?” Jon’s voice brought her back, “are.. Are you okay with this?”  
“I think so. Uly?”  
The spider looked as nervous as she did, but nodded regardless.  
“Yeah. Yeah I am.”  
He crawled down from the owl and stood on the desk, perched on a pile of statements. Penelope tried to ignore her own shaking by focusing on his.   
“Shall we?” Jon asked. Martin nodded and made his way slowly over to the owl, outstretching his hand. Penelope closed the gap by thrusting her head into his curved palm. The effect was instant. What she felt was different than what she’d felt when Nikola had grabbed her. This was warmer, more pleasant. She felt safe with Martin. He seemed to sense this, and began to run his hand over her spotted feathers as he’d seen Jon do a million times. She glanced at her human, who was still standing frozen in front of Uly. Penelope felt a pit grow in her stomach. Touching Uly meant more than just fighting through the taboo for him, it meant overcoming a deep rooted fear the two had held since childhood.  
“Jon? It’s okay if you don’t want to.” The little spider murmured, “I know it’s a lot harder for you because of what I am, I don’t mind if you don’t want to.”  
“No. I want to do this.” He slowly reached his hand out, “it’s only fair.”  
Uly slowly crawled into his hand. Martin let out a long sigh, and Penelope could tell he was feeling the same thing she was. It was harder to tell outwardly with Jon, as he was holding his worst fear in his hand, but underneath she could sense that it felt right. Jon and Georgie had tried this exercise once as well. And though Georgie's hand in her feathers had felt right too, it didn't feel the same as she did right now. That had been a feeling of trust, friendship. This was something deeper than that. Penelope almost dared to call it love.   
She almost didn't want Martin to stop when he finally pulled his hand back and Jon put Uly back on the desk. She rushed over to the Archivist, retaking her perch on his shoulder.   
“Well,” Jon regained his breath, “that was pleasant.”  
“I liked it.” Martin agreed, “I've never felt that way before.”  
There was a long silence, broken by Penelope.  
“I think…” She whispered, “I think this is the first time since Uni someone besides Jon has touched me that didn't want to hurt me.”  
“Has that happened often?” Martin's voice cracked.  
“Not recently.” Jon murmured, “when we were kidnapped by the Stranger, Nikola, she…”  
A chill ran down Penelope's spine at the memory of cold plastic gripping her, forcing her still as hard not-quite fingers dug into her feathers. Martin and Uly both looked shocked.   
“It will never happen again.” Uly proclaimed, “I won't let it.”   
“ _We_ won't let it happen again.” Martin added, “I promise. We'll protect the two of you.”  
“That's a lovely thought Martin, and I appreciate it but-”  
“No. No ‘buts’. We're a team now, I'm going to protect you.”  
Jon smiled and sank back into his chair. This was the first real smile Penelope had seen from him in months.   
“Okay.”


	7. Martin and Ulysses- Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... fun story, this takes place before the last chapter, but I didn't have the idea until after I finished "Reunion" so... enjoy?

Martin and Ulysses- Choices  
Martin didn't enjoy working for Peter. Especially when he found out Jon and Penelope were back. He longed to be back down in the Archives. It was creepy, sure, but at least there he was amongst other human beings instead of pushed off into a tiny office next to Peter's. At the very least he wanted to see Jon again. On some level he knew The Archivist was watching him, but there was little he could actually do about it. Typing in numbers and tracking down statements from Dekker and Heimdall about The Extinction was his lot now. The familiar buzz of his phone brought him away from his scheduling work causing Uly, who had been relaxing on the screen to jump. Martin scrambled for it, hoping to find a text from Jon. Instead he saw Peter, asking him yet again if he was ready to make a decision. Uly huffed.  
“I’ve had just about enough of Peter Lukas,” he grumbled as he crawled into Martin’s hand, “manipulative bastard.”  
“You’re just mad he disturbed your nap.” Martin chuckled, he caught the irritated look on the spider’s face and sighed, “but I am too. I want to go back…”  
“Me too.”  
There was a long silence.  
“Martin,” Uly’s voice was quiet, “we...we aren’t going to end up like Peter and Circe, are we?”  
Peter and his Albatross daemon were severed, cut away from each other at a young age. The final step in becoming an Avatar of the Lonely. That didn’t stop Circe from coming to The Institute on occasion when she found information. The two seemed fairly well-adjusted from what Martin had observed, but nothing could quite erase that far off look in Circe’s eyes, or how Peter never touched her. They way they interacted reminded him of how most people behaved with daemons that weren’t theirs. The thought of him and Uly being like that sent a shiver down his spine.  
“Marto?” Uly asked again, concern in his many pairs of eyes.  
“No.” Martin cupped his hand, the closest thing to a hug he could give the spider daemon, “that won’t happen. I won’t let it.”  
“What does The Web do to its Avatars’ daemons?”  
Martin rubbed his neck with his free hand.  
“I don’t know,” he murmured, “but anything’s better than losing my connection to you entirely.”  
“Speak for yourself,” Uly muttered, “you saw what The Corruption did to Prentiss’s daemon.”  
Martin tensed at the memory of the cat with silver worms squirming and writhing in its black fur, her claws outstretched and too close to Uly and Penelope for comfort. He felt a small leg stoke his palm.  
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” the colorful spider pushed against him, “I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay. You’re right anyways.”  
Martin’s eyes drifted back to the computer screen. The two of them had work to do that didn’t involve speculating which Eldritch Fear God they should align themselves with. He began typing again, wondering what kind of sadist Elias had to be to actually enjoy scheduling. Maybe it was just a Beholding thing.  
“Do we know what The Eye does to its daemons?” Uly asked.  
“I… don’t think so, Penelope didn’t seem any different.” Martin sighed, “then again it’s been a while since we saw them.”  
“‘Anything’s better than losing your connection to me entirely’” Uly’s tone was mocking, but gentle, “and we don’t owe him anything.”  
“Yeah..”  
“And Peter isn’t here?”  
“...Yeah…”  
“And we’re not his prisoners.”  
“He’s not gonna like it.”  
“ _We_ don’t like _this_ Marto. Let’s do something for us for a change.”  
Martin took a deep breath and nodded, filled with a new level of determination.  
“We’re going to go?” Uly questioned, scrambling up into his hair.  
“We’re going to go. And we’re going to see Jon and Penelope. We made a choice and Peter will be unhappy, but he can shove off.”  
“Yes!” Uly cried. Martin smiled and sprang from his desk, sprinting towards the Archives.  
He had an Archivist to find.


	8. Jude and Pele/ Agnes and Agni- Desolation

Jude knew what becoming a Desolation Avatar entailed, and so did Pele. But both had gone willingly, filled with excitement and resolve as they doused themselves in gasoline and lit a match. The fire was painful, excruciating, beautiful. The swirls of crimson nipping at her body and charring her skin. Over the crack of the flames she could hear Gretchen and Phoebus screaming, woman and gecko recoiling in horror as they watched their lovers burn. It was probably for the best they were frozen in shock. Didn’t need them calling 999 and ruining their plans. The flames sang their song of destruction and desolation until Jude finally gave in to the pain, blacking out on the floor as the flames ate through the house around her.  
She felt different when she woke up. The flames were gone now, leaving nothing but cinders and ash. Gretchen and Phoebus were gone now, she could only assume they’d run off in search help from to stop the fire. It’d gone now, inside her rather than out. Burning deep inside her gut. Despite the fact she lacked flesh and bone she could still feel the ripping in her chest that came with being separated from her daemon.  
“Pele?” She called into the charred remains, “Pele where are you?”  
“Jude?” A familiar voice replied. She turned towards where it had come from to see and unfamiliar shape. Gone was the black and tan Rottweiler that had trotted along loyally at her side even through all the murders, grabbing their victims’ daemons and shaking them in his powerful jaws until they were nothing but a pile of Dust and Ash. Standing in his place was a dragon. He was small, only about the size of a cat, and the color charcoal after a fire. Scarlet accents curled around his body, like traces of lava. He stared back at Jude with shocked eyes.  
“Jude!” It exclaimed with Pele's voice, “what.. What happened? I feel different.”  
“You are different!” Jude reached her hand out to touch his scales, but stopped. Pele seemed to sense her thoughts.   
“You saw Agnes touch Agni without issue,” he moved closer to her, “and Sandy touch Surtr, we'll be alright.”   
Jude put her hand out in front of her, and Pele pressed his gray muzzle into the palm. For a moment she expected to hear the sizzle of flesh and feel Pele's pain in her body, but instead the dragon nuzzled her wax skin.  
“See? We’re okay.” Pele’s silver eyes gleamed, “we have a job to do now Jude, let’s start.”  
***  
It was a cold morning in February when Jude saw Agnes again, seated in a bench in the park with Agni perched on her slim shoulder. From far away he looked like a normal bird daemon of an indeterminate species, but when you ventured closer you could see the soot coating his scarlet feathers from the ashes he arose from each morning. He was the first of the two to notice her and Pele, and even just catching the emerald eye of the Phoenix daemon made Jude's heart hammer in her chest as she strode over.   
“Agnes.” she greeted the young woman. Agnes looked from her to Pele and nodded.  
“You’re one of us now.” The girl replied simply, “is it all that you thought it would be?”  
“And more.”  
Agni flew down from his perch to properly greet Pele, something he hadn’t ever done before. Pele stood like a statue as the bird rubbed against him.  
“Welcome,” he said, “to The Lightless Flame.”  
The familiar scent of incense and matches surrounded Jude as she sat down next to Agnes. The burning in her chest was not one of her god. This wasn’t the fires of destruction, but of passion. She wondered if Agnes and Agni felt the same.   
If they did neither acknowledged it, the Phoenix fluttered back up to Agnes’s shoulder, putting his beak in her auburn hair. Agnes absently placed a hand in his feathers.  
“Are you ready to serve us as a true Avatar,” her brown eyes stared blankly ahead rather than at Jude. She grabbed Agnes’s hand causing the woman to turn her gaze, eyes staring from Jude to their entwined fingers.  
“I’m ready,” her eyes burned with determination, “I’m going to serve you with honor.”  
“Serve our God you mean.”  
“That too.”   
Agnes shook her head, muttering something under her breath. Though when they went back to sitting in silence Jude caught her staring at their intertwined hands, she swore she caught the beginnings of a smile on the girl's face.  
***  
Jude never liked Gertrude, but she had to admit that the old woman was definitely a more impressive Archivist then the man in front of her now. Gertrude had never been intimidated by her or the dragon at her side. Her daemon hadn't been either, where the fire ant had stood firm even in the face of the charcoal dragon's fury, Pele didn't even have to try anything in order to get the little owl to perch on her human's shoulder. Nonetheless Jude had told her story to him. Though she couldn't get past the fact he'd refused to shake her hand. He was already stupid enough to seek her out, why not just finish the job? But he needed information, and she was willing to give it, for a fee. When he took her extended hand she felt the ecstasy of destruction bubbling deep in her chest as she felt his flesh searing at her touch. Pele didn't even have to try anything with Penelope. She screeched as her bond with the Archivist caused her wing to burn, scorched feathers fluttering to the ground. Jude and Pele both smiled. They had served their god.


	9. Daisy and Atalanta/Basira and Atlas- Different

It had been a few days since Daisy and Atalanta had followed Penelope and Jon out of the Coffin and everything felt wrong. It felt like the Daisy she’d grown up alongside was dead, and Attie wasn’t so sure she liked the replacement. Gone was the woman that had sent her on monsters who had tried to flee from her grasp, and in her place was someone who couldn’t be left alone. She was practically glued to Basira’s side, leaning on her for support both physically and mentally. Attie wasn’t sure how to deal with her human being so…needy. For the first time since she’d settled, the red kite didn’t feel like her form didn’t fit. For as long as Attie had taken this form it had just felt right. She was made to chase prey, and with The Hunt altering her and Daisy’s bond she was able to take all the distance she needed to acquire her target. She was a weapon, a fighter, her abilities had always matched Daisy’s perfectly, and together they formed the ultimate team. But now it seemed more like something more…nurturing would fit. Some type of dog maybe, or a koala. She spent most of her time near Atlas and Basira now, both when Daisy was around and on the off chance she was off with Jon and Penelope. The distance The Hunt had put between the two felt freeing to her. Basira’s energy was put into stopping Eldritch Fear Gods now, but she was still the same. And it was almost grounding to spend her time next to Atlas. One day when Attie was alone with Basira and her Egyptian Mau daemon she finally asked, “what do you think of her?”  
Basira’s brown eyes peered up from the statement she’d been reading.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know exactly what I mean.”  
Basira let out a deep sigh.  
“I don’t know,” she explained, “I wanted her back, I really did. And having her back is- it’s good. But she’s so different. Clingy, doesn’t want to be alone, almost…touch-starved maybe? Would that be the word?”   
Atalanta nodded slowly.  
“What about you?” Atlas finally spoke from his place on the table next to Basira, “you’re her daemon, and you know what happened in the- down there. What do you think?”  
Attie turned to meet the cat’s glistening emerald eyes.  
“I’ve no idea.” She finally said, “I don’t feel like my form matches her anymore, and I feel…lost? Like I have no purpose anymore. I know that I have a purpose far greater than chasing after whatever monster’s daemon Daisy set me on, but I miss it. I miss her.”  
“She’s still here,” Atlas countered. He moved to curl around Attie, his silver fur brushing against her feathers, “Give her time. I keep telling Basira the same. She was down there for a long time-”  
“So was I!” Atalanta broke free of the cat’s embrace, “or have you forgotten that I was there too, suffering right alongside her until Jon and Penelope got us out?”  
She regained her composure and saw the shocked look on Atlas's face.   
“I'm sorry,” she sighed, “it's just…everyone always seems to forget that I was there too. I'm assuming it's because I can be so far away from her. But even Melanie and Achilles forgot, when I was off with them Ach made some offhand comment that suggested I wasn't in the Hell with her. I wasn't just a pile of Dust down there that sprang from the ashes like a Phoenix when Jon found us. I was there too.”  
“I should be the one who's sorry.” Atlas pressed his head against her brown feathers, “it was out of line for me to say. But maybe you need to heal. Spending time with Basira and I instead of your human could be hindering that.”  
“But…” Attie sighed, then nodded, “yeah. Yeah maybe you're right. I've really only seen Daisy when she's with you two, or when we're sleeping.”  
“You should go to her.” Basira added, “she needs her daemon right now.”  
Attie nodded.   
“I'm going to try to find her.”   
The red kite took flight through the Archives, rushing to try and find her human. When Attie caught sight of Jon and Penelope leaving the place where she and Daisy slept, the bird guessed she was in there. And based off the bored looks on The Archivist and his owl's faces she assumed Daisy had had them listening to _The Archers_ again. She chuckled softly as she landed on a filing cabinet, watching as her human rearranged the sheets on her cot.   
“I thought you were off with Basira and Atlas,” Daisy didn't look back at her.   
“I was. But I left them to come see you,” Attie drew in a deep breath, “Daisy, look, I'm-”  
“Save it, Atalanta.”  
The red kite blinked. She couldn't remember the last time Daisy had used her full name when they were alone. She'd always just been ‘Attie’ when they were in private.   
“No.” she continued, “I want to talk about this.”  
Daisy finally turned to look at her and took a seat on the cot.   
“Say your piece then.”  
“I'm sorry I left you alone,” Atalanta started, “this was the time you needed me most, and I abandoned you. I just…you’re so different now. I know that it isn't your fault, but I didn't know how to deal with it. So I took my solace in the one person I knew well who hadn't changed. But that wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry.”  
Daisy motioned for her to join her on the cot, and Atalanta flapped over to her side. She put a hand in the russet colored feathers on her back.   
“You're alright Atalanta,” Daisy murmured, “it's alright. Everything's different now, for both of us, but we'll figure it out. Together.”  
Attie pressed her head against Daisy's side.   
“I'm not gonna leave you,” she whispered, “not anymore.”  
Daisy nodded.   
“Good.”


	10. Jon and Penelope/Martin and Ulysses/Elias/Jonah and Madea/Hera- Into the Unknown

"He's coming," Madea said, her eyes not leaving the tunnel in front of him, "get-"  
Black talons clutched around the bird's neck, slamming her into the stone ground.   
"Where is he?" Penelope shouted, claws tightening around the peacock's neck, "come on!"   
"Penelope, stop!" Jon gasped for air as he entered the panopticon, "look!"   
The little owl looked up at Elias's smug grin.   
"I don't… how did…?" She stammered.   
"Unless you've the stomach to kill him, Penelope, your talons will do you no good. He is my daemon, but I don't feel what he does. We all get that way, eventually." The little owl's eyes widened as Elias turned to Jon, "you've made it."  
"Where is Martin?" Jon hissed, eyes burning with anger and despair.   
"Peter Lukas cast him into the Lonely."   
Penelope cursed and tightened her grip, causing Madea to gag.   
"And you want me to follow him?"   
"You want to follow him."   
"How do I bring him back?"   
"Heh, he has a death wish," Madea wheezed, cut off by gagging.   
"Quiet, you." Penelope snapped.   
"She's right." Elias replied simply, "to voluntarily walk into the Lonely is as good as death."  
"How do I do it?" Jon insisted, steel eyes not leaving his former boss's smirking face.   
"It wasn't too long ago. Traces of their passage may still remain. Take it all in, know their route, drink it all up and follow it."   
Penelope let go of Madea as her human began to walk forward with slow, methodical steps as wisps of fog began to float in the air. As she flapped after him, her eyes caught on a tiny orange and blue shape on the ground. For a moment she almost dismissed it as some decoy set by Elias, but then she heard a groan.   
"Jon, stop!" Penelope shouted, diving for the little spider. Ulysses laid on the ground in a small heap, his many eyes darting around in their sockets, searching in the darkness as Penelope landed. Her human was by her in an instant, watching but hesitant to touch him.   
"J-Jon?" Agony dripped into Ulysses' voice, "Penelope? You're here… w-where's Marto? W-why does everything hurt? My chest, it feels like… like I'm being impaled..."  
"Uly," Penelope whimpered, resting her beak next to him, "I'm so sorry…"   
"Peter didn't bring Ulysses when he took Martin into The Lonely," Jon murmured, "my god…"  
"What do we do? We can't just leave him here!"   
"Well, I can't touch him!"   
"Whatever you're planning on doing, I do suggest you do it soon," Elias reminded them.   
"The longer you wait the less of a chance you have of saving your precious assistant," Madea taunted, now fully recovered from Penelope's throttling.   
"I can carry him, on my back," the owl finally said, "just put him on there."  
"I can't touch him, it'll hurt him more!"   
"W-We're losing precious time!" Uly snapped, "just pick me...ah… pick me up!"   
Jon drew in a jagged breath, then gathered the spider into his palm and gently placed him in the space between Penelope's wings.   
"Let's go." He said as the fog began to thicken. Penelope nodded and flapped after him.   
***  
Clouds of mist enveloped the three as they entered, waves crashing in the distance. In a corner of his mind, Jon began to feel the slightest tug on his bond to his daemon.  
“Penelope?” He called into the mist, “Ulysses? Where are you?”   
“This place does not take kindly to daemons Archivist,” a new voice cut through the gray, “you’ll be lucky to escape with your bond intact.”   
“Where are you, Lukas?” Jon growled, “and where is Martin?”   
“He doesn’t want to see you.”   
“Then let me hear that from him.”   
Jon continued forward, shouting his assistant’s name into the unending gray.  
***  
“Do you feel anything?” Penelope asked as she flew forward, “I can’t see Jon, and I… I don’t feel our bond.”   
“I...ah!.... I can’t feel anything,” Uly groaned, “I don’t even know if we can in this place.”   
“What did Peter’s daemon do when he went in?”  
“Circe was rarely with him. She...they were severed in some way I think. Not quite...ugh!...a full Intercision, but it wasn’t like the Witches. She can go far away from him, but they don’t feel anything we do. The look in her eyes when she came to him, they were always so distant.”   
The little owl felt the spider shudder against her feathers.  
“Peter… he used to say my eyes would look like that someday.”   
“Well they aren’t,” a wave of determination flowed through Penelope, “we’re going to find him. You’ll be back with Martin in no time. I promise.”   
They flew through the gray for what seemed like hours, until Penelope saw two dark shapes on the horizon. At first, she thought her mind had begun to play tricks on her until Uly shouted “there!”  
Her wings flapped harder as she began to once again feel the strong pull to her human, barreling into Jon’s chest and nearly knocking Uly from her back.   
“Jon!” She exclaimed into his shirt, “I was so worried…!”  
“I know, but we’re safe now,” his tone betrayed his words, “it’s Martin I’m worried about, he… he won’t snap out of it.”  
“Let me try,” Ulysses offered, “maybe having his daemon will help.”   
Jon cautiously took the small spider from his daemon’s feathers, then gently took Martin’s hand and placed him in the man’s palm.  
“Marto!” Uly grabbed Martin’s thumb with his frontmost legs, “Martin, please… It’s me, it’s Uly…”  
His human stared down at the colorful spider with clouded eyes that didn’t recognize him. Penelope’s heart sank.  
“Hello, Ulysses,” came a robotic reply.   
“No…” Uly choked back a sob, “no, please, Marto...”  
Penelope looked desperately at Jon as he took Martin’s face in his hands, forcing him to look the smaller man in the eyes. She Knew what he was planning to do. She wasn’t sure if she could condone the Archivist’s powers being used in any way, let alone on Martin of all people. But they had exhausted their other options.  
“Martin,” Jon’s eyes began to glow an acidic light green, “Martin look at me, and tell me what you see.”  
“I see…” The blonde’s eyes began to clear as he blinked the fog away, “I see you, Jon. I see you.”  
He began to sob as Jon pulled him into his arms, mindful of the little spider crawling up Martin’s arm into his hair. Penelope watched, eyes shining as her human reunited with the man they both loved.  
“I was all on my own,” he cried into Jon's shirt as the smaller man held him. From her place, Penelope could see Uly stroking his human's blonde hair with one leg, crying alongside him.   
"Not anymore," Jon murmured as he pulled back, resting his forehead against his, "come on, let's go home."   
"How?" Martin and Uly both asked.   
"Don't worry. I," he looked to Penelope, "we, know the way."   
Penelope puffed up.   
"Care to lead the way?" Jon asked as he took Martin's hand. Penelope nodded and flew forward, into the thick fog, towards home.


	11. Peter and Circe- At the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Lukas died in the Lonely. Somewhere far off the coast, an albatross daemon waits loyally for her master to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the idea of   
> daemons dissolving to Dust in the chapter to give it a bit more depth and I know that so... enjoy the inaccuracy?

The Tundra rocked steadily on the waves as Circe sat waiting in Peter's cabin. He'd told her go there to lay low until he could return to discuss what she had learned from her days of flying and gathering information, and as the captain's daemon she was the one in charge of the burly crew and their equally large daemons. None of them took kindly to being ordered around by a bird, but money was money, and they came around to the concept after promises of a rise in their paycheck. Circe kept her distance from them as they worked, drinking in the Loneliness of Peter's empty cabin.   
Not that she enjoyed it.   
Feeding her human's Patron had always been more an obligation to her than something she willingly did. Their Severance was something she had never fully managed to forget, and she blamed it all on the Fear God. She and Peter had been together for eighteen years at that point, they were close, they had a _bond_. But even the bond of a man to his soul was not enough to stop him. Circe never forgot the look of pure joy on his face as he walked into the Lonely and left her screaming in agony and grief, willing and ready to comply with whatever challenge his new Patron threw at him. And if this meant letting go of a part of him, then so be it. She had tried to reason with him, tried to tell him this road would do nothing but get him killed, but her pleas fell upon deaf ears. Peter had allowed the Severance, and now she was little more to him than some talking pet who gathered whatever information she could and flew back to him. She didn't feel right seated on his shoulder as she had in the days they'd been attached, it always felt as though she were perched on someone different from her human. It had left an empty space in her heart, one that she knew could only be filled by their bond.   
Circe's eyes drifted to Peter's empty bed. It had been almost two weeks since he'd last contacted her, which was unlike him. Lonely aligned as he was, Circe was still his source for the latest information on the Extinction. She didn't like the waiting, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been banished here to avoid something terrible. The Tundra had been without its captain for almost a year now, and the fact that Peter had asked her to stay somewhere he hadn't been in some time didn't sit well with her. She flew down from her perch and landed on the bed, lowering herself into the sheets. Sometimes, if Circe closed her eyes, she could imagine that she and Peter were children again. Back when she'd been permitted to sleep in his bed, in fact, she pretty much had to when they were a bonded pair. She and her human had never been what others would consider close, but that hadn't stopped them from experiencing the world together. As an unsettled Daemon she and Peter had explored the sprawling grounds of the Lukas Estate, with Circe insisting she take the lead to investigate. She would scurry or slither or crawl or fly ahead of him, finding the deepest, most well hidden corners of the property and faithfully waiting at the edge of what their bond would allow as Peter took it all in. As they grew older and he would beckon for her to join him on his excursions to God only knew where, riding in strangers' cars despite her best efforts to talk him out of it. She would perch on a streetlamp and watch as Peter took in the Loneliness of the pale orange beams casting out onto the pavement of some speck-on-the-map town at dusk.   
It had all happened so fast in the days to follow the first time Peter had banished a man to that horrible dimension, to die alone and forgotten on the endless clouds of mist. After that came the Severance, the Tundra, damming a doomed crew member to the Lonely and dreading the sound of the Whistle, being sent on her first mission to retrieve information, a failed ritual attempt she'd only heard about in passing, the meeting with Dekker that had changed their purpose, the wager with "Elias", and finally finding herself here, nestled in the navy blue sheets.   
A jolt of pain in her foot caused Circe to jump up, stepping back and leaving a trail of Dust in her path.   
_What?_ She thought as her leg began to dissolve into the gold flakes, _what's going on? What's happening? Where's Peter?_  
Realization hit her like the waves that rocked the boat.   
_Am I… dying?_  
It was a much slower process than she had thought it would be, watching her body as her body crumbled to Dust around her. One of Circe's wings began to dissolve as she tried to take flight, tried to free herself from the cabin so that she could at the very least die alongside her human. She tumbled to the cold ground.   
"No," Circe whimpered as she stood, her legs beginning to dissolve out from under her, "no, please, this can't be the end… I need… I need to go to him…."   
Her body had begun to dissolve.   
"Please… he's my human…"   
There wasn't much of her left when she resigned to her end, staring up at the door mere inches away from the pile of Dust that had once been her body.   
_I'm sorry Peter_ , Circe thought as the Dust claimed what was left of her, _I'm so sorry…_.  
***  
No one in the crew knew why they felt compelled to investigate the captain's quarters that morning. Circe left the door unlocked, the daemon was always a bit more social than her reclusive human. The first mate was the one who found the pulse of Dust, his jaguar daemon shouting for anyone nearby. The others had examined the Dust wordlessly, knowing what it meant for the albatross who had given them their orders. There was little for the humans to mourn, short of an end to their incomes, Peter had chosen them for their loyalty to his pocketbook after all. The daemons, however, never acted right after finding one of their own dead. Despite Circe's strange connection to her human, staring at the pile of gold on the ground forced them to remember they weren't invincible. The first mate's jaguar had attempted to take the Dust to the water, to at least give the daemon something like a burial at sea. But her paw barely touched the flecks when the pile turned into thick, white fog before disappearing entirely as though it had never been there to start with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how Peter's wish was to die alone? Remember how Circe just wanted to be with him at the end?  
> Ha.   
> Haha.  
> Ha.


End file.
